A year later
by LoonyLoopyLala
Summary: First Sherlock Fic! Post Reichenbach. John/Sherlock reunion. Slightly, maybe fluffy depending on your point of view...? ONE-SHOT! May do a sequel later.


**My first Sherlock FanFic! Sherlock/John reunion fic post Reichenbach. Slightly fluffy towards the end. **

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John entered the cab. "221B Baker Street, Please." The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb. John relaxed into the seat, pulling out his phone. It had been nearly a year since Sherlock's death, yet he still had an ounce of hope he was alive. He wrote a new message, the one word he had typed countless times since the fall. _Sherlock? -JW._ His therapist reckoned this was his way of coping. He never really knew why he would do it. He just would.

His phone buzzed in his hand. 'Could it be? No. It's just Lestrade or Mycroft.' He unlocked his phone. _John? -SH._ His hands flew over the keys. _You're alive? -JW._ The cab stopped outside 221B. John paid the driver and turned back to his phone. _Yes. I needed to protect you. I hope you understand. -SH_ John couldn't think. _Will I get to see you soon? -JW._ His phone buzzed a moment later. _Where are you? -SH_. _At home. Baker Street. Where else? -JW. Turn around John. -SH._ John turned instinctively. Standing in the door way of 221B was Sherlock Holmes. He had dark shadows under his eyes, his face shallower, as if he hadn't eaten a decent meal in days, weeks even. He wore his usual black coat and blue scarf, despite it being the middle of July. He smiled at John.

"SHERLOCK!" John leaped up on the step and squeezed his protesting friend. Beneath his coat, John could feel the outline of his ribs, even more distinct than before. Sherlock chuckled.

"Hello again John."

"Don't you _ever_ leave me like that again Sherlock!" He reached around Sherlock's thin frame and opened the door. Sherlock walked in, putting up his coat and scarf.

"I won't. I promise. I'm sorry." He stared around the entrance to the flat. "Should I assume that my things are as I left them? Or have you and Mrs. Hudson been cleaning?" They had reached the living room. Sherlock flopped down on the couch, as if he had never left, glancing around the room. John could almost see his mind working to figure out what had been moved.

"I've cleaned your...Body parts...Out of the fridge. Mrs. Hudson _may_ have tried cleaning your room."

Sherlock glared at the door. "Hope she didn't mess up my sock index."

John puttered around the kitchen, preparing tea for them. "Would you like anything while I'm up Sherlock?"

The other man glanced at him. "Like what?" He frowned slightly.

John scoffed. "Like maybe some proper food!" He glanced at Sherlock. "It looks, and feels, like you haven't had a decent meal in ages."

Sherlock turned away, gesturing at his body. "Merely a vessel, John. Remember? Digestion slows me down." He sighed at the look on John's face. "Will eating something make you happy?" John nodded. "Fine. A biscuit then." John opened his mouth, as if to argue. Thinking better of it, he closed it again. "I _suppose _I'll have to sleep too then?" John sat down, placing the tea and biscuits on the table next to Sherlock.

"Yes. Of course you have to sleep Sherlock!" He shook his head.

The flat was silent for a moment. John's head full of unanswered questions.

"Why?" He broke the silence a moment later. Sherlock glanced at him.

"The less you know, the better. If I could have done it any other way, I promise, I would have."

"You should have told me as soon as you were safe!" John burst out.

"Safe is a relative word for us, isn't it John? Besides, where's the fun in being safe? It's _boring._" He reached out at took the biscuit.

The flat fell silent once again.

"John?" Sherlock's baritone cut through John's thoughts. He glanced up. "You're being very _calm_ about all this."

"I'm processing this Sherlock. Give me some time."

"Alright. It's just; I had anticipated getting punched in the face."

"Once I come back to my senses, maybe."

"Would you like me to go?" John's eyes flew open. Panic set in his voice.

"NO!" He coughed, realizing how sharp he sounded. "No. Please stay, Sherlock."

"I only meant take a walk so you can think, but okay." John reddened.

"I'll just sleep it through." Sherlock scoffed, his eyes closed, hands steepled under his chin.

"Sleep. Sleep is boring."

The flat fell silent again. John got up and started walking towards the stairs, assuming Sherlock shouldn't be disturbed.

"John?" Sherlock's voice rang quietly across the flat. "Can you come here?"

John turned. "Yes Sherlock?" The other man was reddening slightly.

"I was just wondering. I haven't been able to sleep well since the fall. And, um." Sherlock's voice dropped, he sounded scared. His face fearful. "Could I maybe stay with you tonight?"

John smiled. "Of course you can." He held his hand out for Sherlock's. The other man slowly reached out to grasp it.

"Thank you John. For believing." He smiled. "I can never finish apologizing for what I've put you through."

The doctor smiled back. "Thank you for coming back for me Sherlock."

Sherlock stood up. "I'll never leave like that again. Don't worry. After all, where would I be without my blogger?" Both men chuckled.

"And where would I be without the world's only consulting detective?"

"Probably limping around London at various speeds." He smiled down at John before heading towards the stairs. "Oh. By the way. Don't look in the second drawer of the fridge!"

John shook his head in disbelief. "You haven't even been back _an hour_ Sherlock!" He climbed the stairs and entered his room. It was already dark. Carefully, he slipped into the bed. "Good night Sherlock." Somewhere from his right, he heard the muffled 'Goodnight John' from Sherlock. Smiling to himself, he turned and closed his eyes, listening to the slight snoring of his friend as he drifted off to sleep

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**Hope you liked! I _ may_ do a sequel later. Awesome people who comment will get some of my fresh baked brownies! :D**


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